'Yes,' said Leonore, though without paying much attention; the care of the luggage did not trouble her; 'but do tell me, Fraulein, dear, where is the hotel? Where are the streets and--and--everything? It seems like the country, and oh, aren't you glad to be out of the train? I thought we should never get here, and it was so dark and raining so hard, and I _couldn't_ go to sleep.' 'Poor dear,' said tender-hearted Fraulein, 'and I who slept comfortably for so long. Had I known you were awake I would have kept awake also.' 'Never mind now,' said Leonore amiably; 'but tell me where we are going.' 'The station is half a mile or so out of the town,' explained the governess. 'See now, the houses are appearing. We cross the bridge--by daylight it is beautiful, such a view down the river.' But Leonore did not care very much about beautiful views--not just now especially. 'I wish it wasn't so far to the town,' she said wearily, though almost as she said the words her tone changed. 'Oh now,' she exclaimed brightly, 'we are really getting into the streets. How queer everything looks--do you think the people are all in bed, Fraulein?' It was a natural question, for as they drove through the wide dark streets, faintly lighted by an occasional lamp, there was nothing to be seen but closed shutters and barred doors. The houses, for the most part, looked large, particularly as regarded the entrance, for many of these led into courtyards, with great double gates. Fraulein nodded her head. 'They are all in their houses,' she said, 'though perhaps not all in bed yet, for it is not really so very late. In Alten we keep to the good old ways, you see, my dear--"early to bed and early to rise," as your rhyme says.' 'It's very dull-looking,' said Leonore discontentedly. 'It seems like a lot of prisons, and--oh----' She broke off suddenly, for they were stopping at last, or at least preparing to stop, as they turned in through a large doorway standing open to admit them into a courtyard, paved with cobble stones, and dimly lighted like the streets by an old-fashioned lamp or lantern at one side. There was more light at the other side, however, where a short flight of steps led into the hotel, and here they pulled up, to be received by a funny little man in black, with a large expanse of shirt-front, and by what looked to Leonore's half-dazzled eyes like a whole troop of waiters, also in black, fluttering about him, though in reality there were only three--all the party bowing in the most polite way, and almost tumbling over each other in their eagerness to help the ladies to alight.